


The Twilight Town Witch Trials

by bat_addicted_loony



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: 1690’s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Historical, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Is that a thing, Like if this don’t make you cry i failed you, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, No beta we die like... most of orgy 13 whoop, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Salem Witch Trials, Salem Witch Trials AU, Witch AU, Witchcraft, Witches, i briefly call native americans “indians” so sorry about that, magick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28946856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bat_addicted_loony/pseuds/bat_addicted_loony
Summary: Twilight Town, 1692. 9 miles North of The Town of Salem.Twins Xion and Roxas live a life in fear and tension as the town quickly becomes engrosed by the Witch Trial Hysteria.
Relationships: Axel & Roxas & Xion (Kingdom Hearts), Axel/Roxas (Kingdom Hearts)
Kudos: 5





	The Twilight Town Witch Trials

**Author's Note:**

> So this story has been in my ‘to-write’ since, probably, 2008. Hold on, when was Erutan’s Transylvanian Lullaby published?  
> ..  
> 2012, nevermind. It’s been a hot second. I was kinda waiting for inspiration and motivation to strike so I could make this into a possible webcomic but it’s been more than a decade and, heck, I can still comic-ify this if I want. Besides, this story always belonged to Roxas and Axel.
> 
> WARNINGS: 
> 
> \- MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH: I don’t like reading character death, why tf am I writing it. So yanno, be warned, a major character dies in this story. Please evacuate the page or grab the, tissues.
> 
> \- USE OF SLUR: I use the term ‘Indians’ for Native Americans twice in this story. I added it to emphasise how much tension there was during these times but using the proper terms would be severely out of place so, sorry, I am aware of the slurage.
> 
> \- DEPICTIONS SIMILAR OF THE SALEM WITHC TRIALS INCOMING: I’ve done my best to be truthful and respectful to the actual historic events by doing the necessary research and having the story straight up not take place in Salem, but in a fictional town instead. Also the whole event is filled with their own plotholes and conspiracies so I left that out as much as possible, focusing instead on the experience of like 2 people and how they might’ve experienced the witch hunts in the 1690’s.
> 
> \- DEPICTIONS OF REAL LIFE WITCHCRAFT: Okay so... some yes and some not. You’ll see what I mean, but I based some of the haps on my own experience with witchcraft. Nature is fuckin wild yo. But anyway, by this I mean that if you yourself do the crafting of the witchy, please pardon the over-exaggeration... you’ll see what I mean.
> 
> \- PURITAN TALK: I am in no way religious so this was a challenge and a half. I could be entirely wrong about how Puritans think so do feel free to yell at me.

I.

It was always Roxas’ job to get the water and he couldn’t say he was etirely fond of it. Especially in February, the harsh cold winter air did little to better his morning moodiness, as Xion would call it. At least in summer he could hear the birds sing to the rising sun.

On that particular morning, the sun had just started to peak above the horizon, reflecting beautifully on the snow covering the wide fields. Wrapped in a blanket and bundled up in his father’s thick coat, he carried a bucket in one hand while holding the other clutched to his chest. He could barely feel his nose in the cold, and clouds formed in front of his mouth.

The only upside to this chore was that it gave Roxas a brief moment of privacy; the only one he’d have for the entire day. And he was happy for his solitude near the stream behind their house. Buried underneath a rock, he had left a pouch filled with salt, lavender and a smooth stone he’d found once. And as he crouched at the embankment of the stream, he lifted the stone and picked the small bag from under it. Carefully, he rubbed his freezing fingers over it, feeling them warm up as he touched the rough cotton fabric. Roxas smiled, knowing the stone inside still had enough energy to do what he charged it for. But it could use more. In his clutched hand was a bay leaf on which he had written a short protection spell, the same one he had used to charge the pouch with. He gently blew on it, using the warmth of his breath to give it that extra bit of magick, and put it in the pouch, back under the rock. 

This morning ritual had been Roxas’ for a few years at that point, in an attempt to protect his family from the smallpox epidemic that had ravaged over the state at the time. It had worked. His family had been left untouched, and since then, Roxas used the pouch to bless their drinking water every time he felt it right. He never told his father or mother about it. Not even his sister knew about it, even though the two of them told each other everything. But he knew it wasn’t save to involve any of them in his unholy rituals. They were already considered outcasts, no need to add fuel to the fire. 

“Roxas!”

He jumped at the shrill voice coming towards him. He quickly checked that the rock was hiding his spell completely, and then grabbed the still empty bucket.

“Roxas, what are you doing? I’m already done with the chickens!” Said Xion loudly from behind him, basket of eggs in her arms and shivering under her own blanket. 

“It’s cold like the devil’s arse!” He snarked back at her, “I can’t catch the water if I cannot feel my hands!”

Xion unsuccesfully tried to hide her grin. “Don’t let mother and father hear you speak such language.”

“It’s true, though, isn’t it,” he grinned back, both of them amused at where exactly Roxas learned such language. He turned back to the stream, finally doing the chore he had to get up so early for. “Besides, how could they hear me while we’re outside, freezing, and they’re inside where it’s nice and toasty?”

“If you’d quit your whining, we could join them,” said Xion, putting her hand and the basket on her hip in a stance that looked earily like their mother’s scolding.

And that’s exactly what Roxas did, feeling save knowing his spell would keep him, his parents, and his sister that he loved most above all, protected.

* * *

II.

Every day, Roxas would accompany Xion to and from work at the Xehanort mansion, where she worked as a scullery maid. It was a relatively long walk to the center of town, passing right by the edge of the woods, along the stream, and by the open fields of their neighbours. Especially during the winter when there were no stalks of grain to hide behind, the warnings of their father rang loudly through their minds. Attacks from Indians was always something to be wary of, and Roxas wouldn’t dare risk his sister to go through that on her own.

Twilight Town itself consisted of no more than what was necessary; a bakery, a butcher, a general store, a forge, a mill, a fishery, a carpenter, the town house, the minister’s house and most importantly: the church. When they were young, Xion and Roxas’ mother brought them to the huge wooden building every morning to hear the hymns and psalms. Nowadays, they only went on Sundays if their mother felt like it. Maybe more in the summer when the air wasn’t so harsh on their mother’s skin, but otherwise, prayer was done at home, over the dinner table, when their mother seemed to be happiest.

Xion and Roxas never saw reason to go by themselves, even though most of town frowned upon them for it. They knew their bible, they knew the verses and they knew Who their life was devoted to. They knew family was most important, so they practiced their worship at home, where family was. Unfortunately - and this they knew - many in the community didn’t see eye to eye with that kind of thinking, whispering ‘heretic’ under their breaths whenever the twins passed by. 

Fortunately, they were not the only heretics in the small town. 10 miles to the south was the town of Salem, right by the sea, from where many outsiders came with ideas as far from Puritan as can be. Most didn’t stay, seeing the unfriendly environment for what it was, and moved on to bigger, more open cities. But some found their livelihoods in Twilight Town. And one of those was Xion and Roxas’ best friend.

After a hard day’s work - Roxas with his father herding sheep, and Xion at the scullery - the twins always found their way to the forge, where a tall man with firey red hair stood waiting for them.

“There they are! My two favourite trouble makers!” Said Axel, almost like clockwork. 

“Good evening, Axel,” the twins said, alway in unison.

“Good God, it’s creepy when you do that...” Axel hummed as he motioned for the two to get inside. “Come on, it’s warmer in here.”

Except for the kitchen at home, Axel’s forge had always been Roxas’ favourite place to be. It was one of the only stone buildings in town, with a fire always going and the eccentric blacksmith always murmuring a song whil he worked. It was warm and inviting, and he was sure that if he asked his sister, she would agree. 

“I’ve got the minister’s request almost done,” Axel said, returning to his workbench while the twins perched themselves on a wooden table in the corner, watching Axel work. “You wouldn’t mind doing the honor of delivering it to him in the morning, Xion?”

“Of course,” Xion chuckled, knowing full well that the relationship between the minister and the blacksmith was explosive. “I’ll come pick it up on my way.”

“Apreciate it.”

“What would minister Xemnas need from you? Did his favourite spoon break?” Roxas asked, putting smiles on the faces of everyone in the room.

“Watch it, you,” Axel mused, “It’s an odd thing, honestly. I was asked to cast a cross in iron.” He held up the iron cross, bigger than most would be and already in the correct shape, but lacking details. “The message specified it needed inscriptions as well. Your minister is either very fancy or very scared.”

“What do you mean?”

Axel clicked his tongue, putting the cross back on the bench. “Just something I’ve noticed amongst your fellow church-go’ers. The more details on a cross, the more protection they seem to think it will bring.” 

“Wait,” Roxas leaned forward, “weren’t you the one who said the more intention someone has, the more it can power an object.”

Axel leaned back on his heels, amused. “Oh, so you were paying attention then!”

Xion leaned forward as well, mirroring her brother. “We always listen to your stories, Axel.” 

The blacksmith chuckled at that. “Well, I didn’t say they were completely wrong. The trick, however, is to make the thing that protects you yourself.” He picked up a graver and carefully started carving into the iron cross. “Following that logic, this cross would work better protecting me than minister Xemnas.”

At that, Xion giggled. “Where do you get all those funny ideas from.”

“Hey, if they worked for my granny, they work for everyone.”

“Please will you tell us another one of your grandmother’s stories? Please?” Xion whined, pulling up her best puppy impression while folding her hands together.

“Such naughty Puritans,” Axel tutted, but he was wearing a grin while he said it, “what would your neighbours say if they knew you were listening to songs and stories?”

“They’re already calling us heretics when they think we can’t hear them,” Roxas said, with a hint of bitterness. “Come on, we’ve had a long and boring day at work-“

“So have I!”

“- won’t you tell us about the boy with the key? What happened after he befriended the dog and the duck?”

* * *

III.

Even though most of the week was spent working, Roxas always felt like Sundays were the busiest day of the week. The town’s community, though God-loving and Devil-fearing, was not a peaceful one. The dispute of Puritan versus heretic had been going on for a while, with most of the town acting uninviting to traveling merchants, while a minority felt that commerce with the outside world was necessary for survival.

Though Roxas largely agreed with the minority, he never took part in the discussion that went on before and after Sunday mass, at the town’s square. As per usual, Marluxia, a tall man who worked at the fishery with strangely coloured hair, was yelling about his shop and how it was hard to keep stock when his neighbours keep scaring away the fishers. In retaliation was Saïx, keeper of the town hall, yelling about the order of the community and how they were a shame upon the eye of God. Both men had a group of people behind them, yelling just as loud and waving their fists.

Roxas and Xion opted to avoid the wrath of the two groups and went to stand with Axel, who was leaning against a building, seeming to find it all terribly amusing.

“Can we ever attend mass without testing the limits of our hearing?” Roxas said as a pseudo greeting. Axel huffed at that.

“Saïx is louder than last Sunday,” he noted, “The stick up his arse must be longer than usual.”

Both Roxas and Xion choked on that and had to turn around so passerby’s wouldn’t see them laughing.

“We can’t run a businesslike this, Saïx!” Marluxia yelled, waving his hands about. “We need trade to survive, you can’t isolate us like this!”

“I can. And I will.” Saïx responded, voice icy but loud as if the entire town could hear it. “Anyone from outside could bring dark forces unto us. Do you want this town to be taken over by demons?!”

At this, a strange hush seemed to move over the crowd. Roxas felt his heart skip a beat. These fights never seemed to end until the church bell rung to start mass. And yet, Saïx had everyone hanging to his every word with just a sentence.

Saïx looked upon the faces of his impromptu audience.

“That’s right,” he said solemnly, “our neighbouring villages have already been struck by this particular kind of plague. Little girls falling to the ground, writhing and gasping, growling as if possessed.” Some of the women gasped and held their hands over their heart. “There are witches among us,” he paused, “and arrangements will be made to exterminate them.”

...

The silence that followed was deafening. For a second, Roxas believed that time has stood still. All around him, women seemed to be on the verge of tears. Even the men’s shoulders were tense and their jaws slack. Axel and Xion as well seemed to be flabbergasted by the news. And Roxas felt like his world was crumbling around him.

Then, someone seemed to wake up from the spell: “Witches?! In Twilight Town?!”

And that woke up everyone else as well, as people started talking, yelling, screaming at each other for answers. What would happen to them? Would they all die? Would they be set upon by creatures of hell? Were they to protect themselves from the outside world or was the enemy already inside?

Not even the tolling of the church bells could settle this mass hysteria.

* * *

IV.

Life became absolute chaos after that. When the twins and their family got home that Sunday, their parents had sent them up to their room so they could discuss what they could do to protect themselves from whatever was coming. Roxas and Xion felt like they were being punished. They were a tight nit family. Any problems they had were discussed and solved together, the four of them. They hadn’t been too young to hear their parents discuss ‘adult things’ since they turned 10.

Even though Roxas knew he wasn’t evil, he felt guilty. Maybe someone had seen him with his protection pouch. Or maybe someone had found it and made some conclusions. Maybe they had heard Axel tell them one of his stories, which most couldn’t distinguish between fairytale and blasphemy. Roxas wanted to lay down and cry but Xion wanted them to sit together and pray. Pray for what, they didn’t know. Pray for their friends and family to come out of this unharmed, for justice to prevail and for their Lord to show them the righteous path.

If the people in town had been hostile before, they were now downright malicious towards each other. During the day, no one spoke to each other. If there was interaction at all, it was to glare with suspicion. Everyone was closed off, even towards their friends and colleagues. The other girls Xion worked with at the scullery, now avoided her like the plague. Axel was the only person that wasn’t their family who would talk to them. Mostly to complain about the general antagonsim of the town and that ‘they should’ve put a tavern in this town ages ago, some ale would do everyone a service’.

Some people acted... strangely, on top of their unkind disposition. Saïx had chosen Sunday mass to report on the neighbouring towns, spreading the news of three witches in Salem being captured and put up for execution. Vexen, their local doctor, would stand on the street and preach for everyone to make sure their children weren’t showing the symptoms of possession. It was loud and obnoxious. He even pushed a puppet into Xion’s hand as they passed him on their way home, saying something about Xion ‘looking too sad for a young woman’ and that the doll would protect her. Roxas seriously doubted it, but Xion clutched the little wooden thing close to her, maybe finding some kind of comfort out of it.

The thing reminded Roxas that he had something extremely incriminating hiding at the stream behind their house, and the thought filled him with so much dread, it made it hard to breath. His family needed protection more than anything right now. Should he leave it where it’s harder to find? Should he bring it in the house where the protection would be more affective but anyone could stumble across it? Should he destroy it all together and trust in his God for protection? It filled him with anxiety he had never felt before.

One morning in April, Roxas went out to fetch water as usual, when he stopped and regarded the rock that hid his spell. He should at least check if it was still there. After all, this piece of land was his father’s, no one should pass by this part of the stream. He crouched down and carefully lifted the rock. The pouch was still there. Roxas sighed in relief and thanked God for keeping his secret. He grabbed the little bag and opened it, checking if everything was still there, when he heard a branch crack.

He looked up and there, at the other side of the narrow stream, was a boy, carrying a bucket, and staring at his spell pouch with eyes the size of dinner plates. Roxas froze, mouth open, ready to spout some kind of excuse, but nothing came out. He was caught. There was no way he can explain this.

He didn’t recognise the boy, didn’t know where he even came from. Behind him was nothing but woods. Was he even from Twilight Town?

Finally, the boy slowly lowered the bucket and raised his hands as if to show he was unarmed. Was he so convinced Roxas would hurt him? Did he think Roxas was going to throw some kind of spell at him. But instead of moving backwards, the boy took a step forward.

“Don’t run.”

What?

Roxas breathed in, carefully, still afraid to move. The boy came closer to the stream that seperated them.

“I won’t tell,” he said, “I’m like you.”

“What?” Roxas blinked, his voice sounded as that of a mouse.

“That’s a spell, isn’t it?” The boy was a few feet from the edge of the stream as he crouched down to be at eye-level with Roxas. “I make those too. I use sage and birkwood. What’s in yours?”

Roxas felt his body losing all tension and he had to keep himself upright by grabbing the rock.

“You... I...” he couldn’t get anything out, as he was still processing what he was hearing. He wasn’t alone? Someone else knew how to make protection spells? And they used sage and birkwood? For the first time, he looked at the person in front of him. The boy was very obviously not from Twilight Town or any town near here. He had tanned skin and wore a colourful tunic. His hair was brown and even more of a mess than Roxas’ bedhead.

“I’m Sora,” he said, with the friendliest smile Roxas had seen all year, “I’m with a group of travelers. Our camp isn’t far from here.”

“Are there others?” Roxas asked, finally finding his voice, though it was weak. “At your camp, are there others like...?”

“Yes,” Sora nodded, seeming to gain more enthusiasm now that Roxas was responding. “Yes, there’s loads like us. My best friend Riku, he’s really great at sleeping potions. And Aqua, she’s teaching us everything she knows, she’s the smartest person I know.”

Roxas moved his footing, finding a more comfortable position, as he listened.

“Are you the ones who are bewitching the girls, in the other towns?” He asked, carefully.

At this, Sora seemed to sag a little.

“Actually, we’re running away from that.”

Roxas tried to swallow to get rid of the lump stuck in his throat, sure he understood what that meant. Suddenly, he got up and started to walk backwards.

“You shouldn’t be here. We don’t want you here.”

Sora got up too, “wait!”

“Stay away!” Roxas cried out and then turned around and ran back to the house, protection pouch still in his hand and bucket forgetting next to the stream.

* * *

V.

“They arrested Larxene,” Axel said from his place on the wooden table, right next to Roxas. The doors to the forge were closed, and the two were anxiously awaiting Xion as she finished her work, which ended up taking longer than usual now that there were prisoners to feed under the mansion.

“Why,” Roxas wondered aloud. Axel sighed.

“She’s Marluxia’s closest friend, they were gonna put her to trial one way or another.”

Roxas frowned. “But she’s not a witch.”

“Someone claimed they saw her dancing naked near the lake at night,” Axel scoffed. “They said they saw the devil joining her in dance and song as they embraced and all other kinds of shite.”

“... What was that person even doing at the lake at night? How else could they have witnessed Larxene?”

At that, Axel laughed loudly. It was different from his usual laughter. He sounded sad, defeated, exhausted. Roxas could only think how he missed Axel’s usual laugh. Axel groaned.

“This whole thing is a mess. Nothing makes sense.”

“At least no one’s been executed...”

“... yet.”

Roxas felt a shiver go down his spine.

“Why did I ever decide to settle here of all God damned places.”

“As if it was better in Ireland.”

“Hey, at least the colour of my hair wasn’t grounds to call me a heretic.”

Roxas chuckled. “No, that would be your outrageous personality.”

“You love my personality,” Axel leaned close to Roxas to bump him on the shoulder. Roxas bumpd back.

“I do,” he said after a while of silence. Axel took a breath, louldy.

“And I love yours... That can be grounds to call me a heretic.”

The two of them fell silent, pondering what had just been said.

“Would you...” Roxas said barely above a whisper, thinking of his pouch, now hidden under a plank of wood in his father’s cellar, “Would you still love.. my personality, if I was accused of witchcraft?”

Axel fired back immediately, “Of course I would.”

* * *

VI.

Xion and Roxas used to share their bed until age 9, when their father had fashioned a seperate bed for Roxas to sleep in. They still shared a room since their house didn’t have the space. Despite the seperation, Xion often crawled next to Roxas during especially dark nights. One time, Axel had told them about the Wild Hunt, explaining that the howling of the wind outside was just Arawn, Welsh king of the Underworld, hunting lost souls to bring them to the next life. Though a morbid tale, it helped Xion sleep better during stormy nights.

Since the news of witches in Twilight Town, Xion had been spending more and more time in Roxas’ bed than her own. Though it wasn’t something their parents approved of, they knew their children and how much the mere presence of one could comfort the other, so they let it be. And though Roxas liked his space, he couldn’t help but notice how he started to sleep better since he and Xion started sharing the bed again.

Some nights after Sora ambushed him at the stream, Roxas had trouble sleeping again, despite having Xion next to him. It was a clear spring night, with a full moon shining down through the window, and the thought of what the other boy had said kept Roxas up. He felt like he should be quaking from fear but the sight of the round moon somehow felt like a warm hug, making him think more calmly about the interaction instead.

Sora had all but admitted he and his band of travels were responsible for the widespread panic in the region. So why did he feel like Sora wasn’t evil? He had looked sympathetic, trustworthy, and even days after the interaction, Roxas hadn’t been arrested yet, which meant Sora hadn’t snitched about what he had seen.

There was also the matter of knowing there were people like him out there; people who made talismans and protection charms and potions. And Roxas, even though he didn’t want to admit it, was itching to know more.

Carefully, he lifted himself off the mattress, making sure he didn’t wake Xion in the process, who was clutching the puppet close to her. Avoiding the creaky spots of their bedroom floor, he put on a pair of trousers, a jacket, and wrapped a woolen blanket around his shoulders. He quietly made his way downstairs where he strapped on his boots and grabbed a lantern and a box of matches, before carefully opening the door and going outside.

Sora had said they were camping some ways in the forest, so as soon as he had crossed the shallow stream behind the house and crossed the forest edge, he crouched down to light the lantern with his matches, and made his way into the dark woods. His father had warned him about wolves and Indians hiding in the woods, multiple times, but for some reason, that night, he wasn’t afraid of anything. The moonlight seemed to slip between the fresh spring leaves and light his way through the trees until eventually, he saw the light of a bonfire.

He slowed down as he approached what he was sure was the edge of the camp. From his spot between the trees and bushes, he could see at least three campfires, lighting about ten tents in total. There were people sitting on makeshift stools and tree trunks, talking and laughing with each other. He could even see one man playing an instrument and singing something that resembled what Axel always sung in his workshop. The same sense of warmth and safety Roxas got when he was with Axel at the forge, filled him now as he watched people go about their nightly routine, talking, eating, having a good time.

Finally, he took the steps out of the forest line and into the light of one of the fires until someone noticed him. One by one, people stopped what they were talking about and instead watched him come closer, their gaze curious but not intimidating.

“You came!” Roxas heard the familiar voice of Sora, right before he saw him come towards him from one of the fires. He had a huge smile on his face, like he was relieved to see him. “I was so afraid I’d scared you off! It’s good to see you again.”

Roxas tightened his hold on the blanket around his shoulders as Sora stopped in front of him, expecting Roxas to say something.

“I...” he swallowed, embarassed, “I apologise. For yelling at you the other day.”

“It’s water under the bridge, friend,” Sora said, waving his worries away, and Roxas felt like he’d come home.

“Roxas. My name is Roxas.”

Sora took the hand that was holding Roxas’ lantern. “It is so good to meet you,” he said, solemnly. “Come, meet my friends.”

Still connected by the hand, Roxas followed Sora to where he had come from. Everyone else at the camp went back to talking and laughing, as if Roxas wasn’t someone they had never seen before.

Around Sora’s campfire, there were three more people; a man with broad shoulders and unique silver-blond hair, a girl with hair the colour of raspberries and wearing a short-sleeved dress and the man playing the instrument. The latter had stopped his singing but continued to pluck the strings on the instrument, creating a cozy little bubble around the camp.

“These are my friends, Riku, Kairi and Demyx,” Sora said, excited, “I told you about Riku, he makes the potions, and Kairi is my other best friend, she doesn’t really do magick but she a great cook, it’s like a blessing of itself, and Demyx does magick with music, isn’t that amazing?”

Roxas felt a little overwhelmed, seeing as all that was delivered to him in a single breathe, but he smiled anyway. He put the lantern on the ground next to him and gave a small wave to the campfire’s occupants.

“Everyone, this is Roxas, he lives in town and he does protection charms... I think,” Sora turned to him, “what is your specialty?”

“Oh, uhm...” Roxas blanked at that, not knowing there was anything to have specialty in, “I... I guess I’m a sheep herder. Like my dad.”

“Sora, I think you’re asking a bit too much from Roxas right now,” the girl - Kairi said, putting her hand on Sora’s arm and pulling him down unto his seat. She nodded at Roxas, offering him a seat as well. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. This must all be quite strange for you.”

Roxas couldn’t do much but nod; she had hit the nail right on the head.

“So, did you bring anything else, beside your lantern?” Demyx asked him, glancing at the lamp at Roxas’ feet.

“Uh.. bring? I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was supposed to bring something.”

“Well, you can’t travel with just a blanket, can you?” Sora chuckled, like he just told an inside joke, but Roxas felt the warmth from before slowly leave his body.

“Travel? I...”

“Did you even really tell him what we do?” Riku spoke up for the first time, giving Sora a scolding look, who in turn crossed his arms in a pout. He then looked at Roxas, his eyes peeking from under his long hair. “We’re all outcasts of some kind, as you might have guessed, but we’re more specifically on the run from those who hunt us.”

“... so.. Are you responsible for the recent bewitchings?” Roxas asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“It’s... complicated,” Kairi said, and everyone else’s mood seem to lessen as well. “None of us have actively caused harm but-“

“We’re different,” Riku interrupted, his stare becoming intense, “we’re not welcome in our communities, and that’s not our fault,” he said this specifically at Kairi, who looked down staring into the fire. 

Roxas remained quiet, giving anyone the opening to continue. Sora was the one who eventually spoke up again.

“Something is happening, in the other towns. We don’t understand what. Aqua says it’s not our fault.” Sora seemed to shrink in on himself, folding his arms around his legs. “Kairi, she...” he looked at her, seeming to ask for permission, which she gave with a solemn nod, “they came for her, in the middle of the night. We lived next to each other so I heard everything. The next day, they were holding her in town hall, and everyone was calling her a witch and... all these awful things. They didn’t let her say anything, there was nothing she could do.

“I told Riku what was happening, and he grabbed some stuff, some food and all that. Next thing I know, we’re breaking Kairi out of the jail and we ran. As hard as we could. I had to carry her on my back at some point because of the things they had done to her.”

Roxas swallowed, having a hard time listening to this terrible tale. Demyx had stopped playing.

“We found Aqua in the woods. Or rather, she found us. She told us that we were not evil for what we did. That God won’t punish us for wanting to save our friend. I’m so glad we found her.” At this he looked up, straight into Roxas’ eyes. “She’s taking us to a place where we can be ourselves, if you can believe it. Somewhere where we don’t have to hide ourselves or opress who we are.”

Roxas swallowed, his voice was quiet: “That is hard to believe...”

“It’s true, though,” said a voice from behind him. He turned and saw a slender lady, with beautiful blue hair, her entire presence seemed to be magical and ethereal. “Where I come from, there’s no such thing as a witch hunter.”

Everyone around the fire perked up, as if the woman’s ethereal aura fed them hope and calm. She walked around Roxas to sit on a wooden stump next to him, leaning forward and folding her hands together, as she looked at him like a mother teaching her children about God and his gospels for the first time. Roxas once again felt safe.

“It’s a hidden island, down south, and anything you believe in is true there. Your God, my Goddess, are all allowed and no one is forced to believe something they don’t want to. All is accepted,” she said. “Not to say there isn’t any intolerance. I don’t think there’s anywhere like that. But it’s better than here, and it’s protected from invaders, and it’s full of love and life and people who want to work hard to make a life for themselves.”

Roxas could hardly believe what he was hearing. “It sounds like one of those fantastical stories my friend likes to tell...”

“I know,” the woman - he could only assume this was Aqua - nodded, “I understand it’s hard to trust something that sounds like a fairytale, especially with your upbringing. Which is why I would never dream of forcing you to come with us.” At this Roxas looked around the group again, who all were looking back at him with anticipation and sympathy. Aqua continued: “But know that we would welcome you with open arms, whether you decide to come with us or not, or if you come along partway and leave us somewhere else. Our goal is to protect those who would ask protection from us, no questions asked.”

The feeling of warmth speading through his body was back, and Roxas lifted his hand to wipe away a tear he couldn’t manage to keep in. To think people like this could exist, who wouldn’t judge him or condemn him. If he ever met his God, he imagined being in His presence would feel like this too.

“Joining you,” he said, “sounds like an absolute dream.” He looked around the circle again. “If it were just up to me, I would come along in a heartbeat. But it isn’t just me. I have a sister, and parents. I can’t leave them behind here. And my best friend, he’s so important to me, I can’t abandon him like this.”

“He can come too,” Sora said, his smile blinding. “The more, the merrier.”

“If you can convince them to come, they’re welcome,” Aqua said.

“But it should probably be soon,” Riku spoke up again, “We can’t stay for long, there’s other towns where the witch hunts are raging, other people might need our help.”

* * *

  
  


VII.

Before Roxas thought of a way to bring up the subject of leaving with his family, Xion and Roxas were both arrested.

They took them as they approached the church for the Sunday mass, a man with an eyepatch calling out that they’re being arrested for the crime of witchcraft, while two others tied their hands together and manhandled them to the minister’s house, where they were seperated. Roxas in the men’s jail, where Marluxia was, and Xion with Larxene amongst other women.

No one spoke to them. Roxas didn’t speak. Xion however was screaming at the jailors to let them out, they had done nothing wrong.

They were kept in there for three days with little food or water. The only light into their cell was the small, barred window near the ceiling, as it let in the spring air of May.

Xion had fallen silent, but he could hear her talk with some of the other women. He could hear Axel too, demanding to be let in, to let him see his friends. He hadn’t heard anything from his parents.

On the fourth day, both of them were dragged to the town hall, where all the trials were held. Hands bound, they were put on a pedestal next to the minister’s tribune, where minister Xemnas sat, looking over the room with indifference. The hall was filled with people; men and women they had grown up with, who’d seen them grow up. There wasn’t a single sympathetic face in the crowd, Axel and their parents barely making it in before the double doors were shut and the mob quieted down.

Xemnas took a stand.

“By the right of God, I hereby open the trial of Roxas Strife and Xion Strife on the accusation of witchcraft, for which the penalty is death by hanging.” He turned to the twins. “How do you plead?”

Xion instantly shouted: “Not guilty!”

Their audience shot back: “Liars!” “Witches, both of them!” “Devil’s children!” “Burn them!” “Hang them!”

Roxas could do nothing but hang his head and pull up his shoulders. It’s his fault this was happening. They must’ve found out somehow. And they were dragging his sister down with him. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t just conjure up a protection spell. Not like this.

“Order!” Xemnas called out to the crowd. The two guards that had taken them down to the jail were the only thing between the angry mob and the twins. Roxas wanted lightning to strike him down and end this madness. “Young lady, there are witnesses to your heinous acts. We can make this short and all go home quick if you just confess.”

Roxas felt Xion shudder in anger next to him. He couldn’t bare looking.

“Repent before God and confess!” Xemnas raised his voice.

“We’re innocent!” Xion yelled back.

“Very well,” Xemnas waved his hand to the man with the eye-patch next to him, “bring the first witness.”

Roxas immediately recognised the first person they brought forward. They were screwed.

“State your name and what you have seen.”

“My name is Seifer, and that girl right there is a witch, no doubt about it,” the man standing in front of the tribune said, confident and back straight as he pointed towards Xion. “She’s cast many a spell on mine and my friends, sir! Every time she passes us by, she yells things at us that no girl or woman should ever speak out loud!”

“You were pulling my skirts!”

Xemnas called for order again: “The accused will be silent!” He turned back towards Seifer, the audience attentive. “What sort of spells?”

“It was like she had summoned a poltergeist and made it torment us. Windows would open by themselves, our fireplace would suddenly cast big flames, giant flames, it singed off my eyebrows! My friend swore he saw her, levitating next to his window at night, laughing at him!”

As the crowd went wild again, Roxas lifted his head slightly to search for Axel. He didn’t have to look hard, as Axel’s hair caught his eye immediately, and the man was looking back at him, his face grim.

“And this has happened often?”

“Every time she passes us, yes!”

Xion was restless next to him, moving from one foot to the other as if she was readying herself to charge. Her anger oozed from her very being.

“Thank you, you are dismissed. Next witness!”

As Seifer turned around to walk back to a seat in the hall, his eyes bore into Xion’s with an ugly grin. Roxas swore he could hear her growl.

Passing Seifer to the front of the room was Vexen. Xemnas asked for his name and statement.

“I’ve seen the girl carrying a puppet,” Vexen said, “it carried the likeness of a girl called Olette.”

Xion stiffened next to him. They both knew Olette; she and Xion worked in the scullery together. The three of them had been friends together with two other boys when Roxas still went to school.

“Since I’ve seen that puppet, the girl Olette has come to my practice, complaining of burns and pains. Her body littered with bruises and contorting in impossible ways. She even went blind for an hour while she was at my consultation!”

The crowd gasped and Xion let out a silent sob. Roxas was flabbergasted and had a hard time breathing.

“The puppet is the cause of the poor girl’s afflictions! I’ve seen it on my travels to the South! Witches using the dolls as vessels for their victims, brutalising it so their victims feel the same pain! I know for certain it’s her doing!”

Xemnas spoke up: “You are a renowned scientist in the state and the trusted physician of this town. This is your professional diagnosis?”

“It is, sir.”

Xion slumped against the wall behind them. Her knees must be shaking. The crowd was letting out ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’, cooing sympathetically for the afflicted girl and hissing angrily at Xion. Xemnas dismissed Vexen and called for the final witness.

Both Xion and Roxas’ heart stopped as they watched their parents aproach the tribune.

“Mr. and Mrs. Strife,” Xemnas said, the hall so silent one could hear a pin drop, “what would you like to say?”

Their father was holding their mother by the shoulder, who was looking down in shame. But it was their mother who eventually spoke up:

“Xion and Roxas... they’re good children,” she said, she had clearly been crying, “One couldn’t ask for a better son and daughter, sir. Always doing their chores, never complain, they help me when I feel weak when my huband is busy with his work.”

One could feel the tension in the air. Mrs. Strife had everyone’s attention pinned on her. However her gaze was at all times straight to the ground, it never once wavered to her children.

“To hear others talk about them the way they’ve done, I feel like a horrible mother. It’s like I don’t even know who they are. But I do know them. I’m their mother, I know them better than anyone.

“Which is why it pains me to say... that’s it true. Roxas and Xion... are spawns of the devil.”

The crowd gasps. Roxas and Xion both swear they could hear their hearts shatter into pieces. But the woman they called their mother continud and the mob quieted down once more:

“16 years ago I had a dream. It was a shameful dream. A man came towards me. He was horned and his hands were blackened. He had no feet, they were the legs of a goat in their place. He wasn’t wearing clothes. He took mine off as well...

“The day after the dream, I discovered I was pregnant with twins. Minister, I was so ashamed!”

As the woman’s voice grew louder, so did the assembled town’s folk, outraged at the poor mother’s suffering.

“Why did you not dispose of the devil’s children as soon as they were born?” Xemnes asked.

“I had carried them with me, sir, for 9 long months. It was a difficult pregnancy, and my husband will tell you I barely survived it myself. But I did survive. Because they’re my children, sir.”

“Did you witness signs of their parentage as they grew up?”

“... The two of them.... from since birth, they could do things unheard of. Communicating without speaking. Sometimes it was like they were supposed to be one person, ripped in two, the way they move... oh, sir,” she breathed hysterically, “did the devil rip my husband’s child in two?! Did it kill it before it could be baptised?!”

“Order! Mrs. Strife, pull yourself together!”

They could see the husband pulling his wife up, as she had clearly more and more trouble trying to keep standing. It was him who spoke up next:

“Sir, there’s more.”

“Tell me, man.”

“We found the doll doctor Vexen spoke of in our son’s bed,” he said, spreading disgust among the crowd for the blatant misunderstanding. “And I found this, hidden in the basement.”

At this, he pulled something out of his back pocket. Roxas recognised it immediately and whatever was left of his heart sank. Their father had found the thing that was supposed to protect them.

“What in God’s good name is that?”

“It must be a curse, sir. My wife, she hasn’t been well in so long. Whatever this is must’ve been causing her sickness. I don’t let anyone inside our house except for family, so one of the twins must’ve put it there.”

The woman finally sank down as she fainted. The crowd lost it’s mind. Roxas could hear Axel yelling something. Xemnas gave his final verdict.

* * *

VIII.

It was months before Roxas and Xion were to be hanged. Since then, the blacksmith’s forge had stood still. The blacksmith himself barely left the house, except to go yell at the jailors to let him see his friends. He always returned home unsuccessful. He even once went to the house his two friends had called home for their entire lives, to yell at the man and woman responsible for their childrens’ fates, but all he got was an angry man with a shotgun telling him to leave him and his wife alone.

The day of the execution, Axel was the first at the minister’s mansion, waiting for the twins to be dragged out, unto the awaiting cart. It didn’t take long for an excited crowd to form behind him. Axel could vomit.

Finally, the twins as well as 4 others were dragged out, bound and thin-looking. They must’ve been malnourished and tired as they hauled them up one by one on the cart. Axel aproached the cart as closely as the guards allowed him.

“Hey there,” he said, voice wobbling, “my two favourite trouble makers.”

“Axel,” the two said, as always in perfect unison. Roxas looked defeated and afraid. Xion had that small mischievous smile on her that she always had. It was all Axel could do to not burst in tears right there. He should be strong for them.

As the cart moved towards the execution site, Axel followed, front row, the gathered town’s folk behind him.

The site was just a small grassfield, nothing impressive. Xion and Roxas used to play with Roxas’ school friends when they were children. Who was he kidding, they were still children. At the tree in the middle of the field were six nooses. As the cart was positioned under them, the crowd formed a half circle to watch the spectacle. Axel was roughly moved back, probably to avoid having him interupt the procedings. From where he stood, he could see the twins talking to each other. Both were crying now, fat tears rolling down their cheeks. Weirdly, Roxas was putting on a brave face, seeming to encourage his sister, while Xion listened and shivered in fear. Axel wished he could jump up there and give them a hug. God, he’s been wanting the hug them for so long now.

The guards pulled them all up and started putting the nooses around their necks. First Marluxia, who stood back straight, staring his audience right in the eyes. Then Larxene, who was looking up at the sky. Then two others whom Axel didn’t really care for, though he did feel a bit of sympathy for the poor sods that were likely falsely accused. The twins were the last to have the rope around their neck. He could see them holding each others’ hands. Xion closed her eyes, huddling close to her brother, who was searching the crowd.

Roxas’ eyes met Axel’s. And they stayed there.

The cart started moving. Marluxia dropped. Then Larxene.

Axel’s hands were shaking.

The other two dropped.

Axel mouthed three words, he knew Roxas would understand.

Xion and Roxas dropped together.

Axel fainted.

* * *

IX.

When Axel woke up, he was in the company of three kids. He recognised at least one of them as Olette so the other two must’ve been Hayner and Pence, Roxas’ old schoolmates. The three of them were in various phases of distress. Olette especially was huddled in the corner and wouldn’t look up.

It was Pence who told them that after he’d fainted, they had brought him to Hayner’s parents’ house to sleep it off, that he looked exhausted, and the three of them couldn’t stand to stay for much longer.

It had been hours, according to him. No one had bothered to take the bodies down yet. Axel offered he do it. Both Pence and Hayner decided to come along.

There was no place in the church’s graveyard for heretics, so the boys had to bring the bodies to a potter’s field to bury them. They brought down the other four as well as the twins, feeling they were deserving of a burial as well, no matter the circumstances. Anyone who passed by them frowned upon them, but they glared back. This town had taken everything from Axel. If there was a witch in this town, they deserved whatever the witch’s curse had coming for them.

By the time they were done burying the six accused, Olette had come out with lanterns, coats and dinner. None of them ate any of it, though. As the men had continued working, Olette sat by them, praying quietly. At the end, they all stood in silence, contemplating the day’s events and how they were going to move on from it. Eventually, Pence, Hayner and Olette dragged themselves home. Axel stayed for a while longer, saying to whoever would listen:

“You make sure they’re safe. Make them feel at home. Love them the way they deserve.”

* * *

X.

A week passed. Two more were accused and executed. Axel and the victims’ families brought them down and buried them next to the others. He wasn’t sure why he stayed.

He felt like he was walking through fog. As long as he slept, ate, took a shit, he could navigate through the fog, pretend he was in the past. He could pretend he was doing good work, building strong things. And at the end of his working day, there’d be two identical people, waiting for him, wanting to hear the dumb stories his granny used to tell him. He’d pretend he’d be new to town, surrounded by unfriendliness, second generation Irish immigrant who had followed his parents to the New World. He’d pretend that one day two little kids would watch him work his craft, asking him all kinds of annoying questions, until they never left and they became part of his routine.

He could pretend those two kids grew up to become beautiful young adults. One strong young woman who could fight better than any man in this town. The other a handsome young man with a heart of gold and a sarcastic smirk to rival his own. He’d marry the young woman, because it would’ve been expected, but in truth, he would’ve belonged to the young man. He’d let the two of them live with him. They would’ve grown old together. Content.

But the truth was they were gone, and he was stuck in the fog. And he knew he needed to get out. Needed to move on. And this town was not going to help him do that.

A week after his best friends died, Axel packed a bag with all he’d need to sail back to Ireland, where he’d start again and never hear of Twilight Town ever again.

In the dead of night, he left his forge cold, locking the double doors behind him. He’d walk the 9 miles to Salem, where he’d take the first ship across the Atlantic.

But first, he went to the pot’s field, for one last final goodbye.

The lanterns along the street had been lit but Axel’s fog was still following him. It gave the night an eerie feel. He was truely alone.

Except he wasn’t.

There, right in front of where they had buried Xion, stood a hooded figure cast in shadow, their lantern on the ground behind them. Axel slowed down, eyeing the stranger with suspicion. But who would visit his sweet friend with bad intentions. Carefully, he stepped unto the grass field.

The noise of his footsteps startled the hooded stranger, who looked up with big, sad eyes. Axel felt like he got punched in the stomach.

“Roxas?” He said, breathless.

In a flash, Roxas had turned around and started running, leaving the lantern. Axel only lost a second before he followed.

“Roxas!”

He chased the boy straight into the forest, where darkness almost overtook them, if it hadn’t been for the waning gibbous moon above them, lighting the way. Axel stumbled over roots but Roxas seemed to know his way without a hitch. Luckily, Axel’s legs were longer.

They must’ve been a five minute walk from the lake when Axel jumped and grabbed Roxas from behind, throwing the both of them to the ground. Roxas cried out as he hit the dirt, Axel wrapping himself around the boy like an overly affectionate octopus.

“Roxas, roxas,” he kept saying, rubbing his face in the other’s cloak. “You’re here, you’re really here.”

“Axel,” Roxas mumbled, trying to wiggle out of the taller man’s arms. “Please.”

“I’m never letting you go again,” Axel said, lifting his head so he could look straight into the younger man’s eyes. “You hear me? I don’t care if you’re a witch, or not a witch, or a vampire or the undead, I’m just..” Roxas was looking back at him, teary eyed, cheeks rosey and no longer malnourished and dehydrated, “I’m so glad to see you.”

* * *

XI.

The moon above Roxas was another full one, though it’s light was broken by the bars of the small window in his jail cell. It was the only bit of the outside he had seen in days, maybe weeks. He would say he lost count of how long it had been since his and Xion’s trial but he would be lying, he never started counting. He could’ve asked Marluxia, who was somewhere in the corner of the cell, but he doubted he knew more than him.

The trial had left Xion a sobbing, broken mess and Roxas numb. The one person who was willing to defend the two of them had been silenced, as he was never part of the community and not under God’s jurisdiction. Their parents had left them in the dust. The community hated them. And Roxas blamed himself.

Xion wasn’t a devil’s child. He might’ve been, but not Xion. Strong, kind, wonderful Xion couldn’t have been made by anything but light. If anything had corrupted her, it was Roxas. Roxas who played with Pagan magick, who had considered leaving the safety of a community to live an un-Christian life. He who had comsidered taking his family and friends to follow the same unholy path and damn them to hell. He who had dark thoughts about his best friend, wanted to do things with him that no man should ever do to another man.

He was the corrupt one, he was the one who deserved punishment.

His sight of the moon was broken by a sudden shadow. Briefly he wondered if the devil had come to claim him, but then the shadow hissed his name.

Slowly he sat up, and squinted at the window.

“Roxas, come closer, quick!” Said the shadow in Riku’s voice. In a daze, Roxas obeyed him. “Your execution. It’s tomorrow.”

Good, Roxas thought. About time.

“Your sister’s too. And others’. They’re taking out a lot in one go,” Riku said in a harsh whisper.

“No...” Roxas mumbled, slowly coming out of his daze. “Not Xion. They can have me, but not Xion, she did nothing wrong.”

“Neither did you, Roxas. None of you did,” Riku crouched lower, trying to get closer. “Listen, I can’t get you out of there. There’s too many guards and I don’t know the layout of the place. So we’re going to have to do this differently, okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Take these,” Riku stuck his arm through the bars and pushed something in Roxas’ hand. He looked down to see small seeds. “They’re paopu seeds. They’re from Aqua’s homeland. Are you listening?”

As Roxas looked down at the seeds, he felt the same warmth he felt as he had listened to Aqua talking about her home, as he had seeing Sora introduced his friends, as he had every time he was at the forge with Axel. He could smell the sea.

“Yes.”

“Tomorrow,” Riku continued, “at the execution, you put one in your mouth. And as you.. as you drop, you bite down on it.”

Roxas looked up at Riku, panicked.

“You’re having a laugh.”

“It will put you in a dreamless sleep. You’ll seem dead in every sense of the word but instead you’ll be protected from death.”

Roxas scoffed, “you really are crafty with sleep magick...”

“Give the other one to you sister. Explain to her how it works.”

“How will we wake up?”

“I’ll come get you and release the spell. And after that, you two are coming with us. Yes?”

“... Yes.”

* * *

XII.

Roxas’ rebirth was anything but pretty. As promised, Riku dug him up and revived him, but his mouth was still partly covered in dirt. After he had coughed up all he could and took his first breath in a day, he saw that he was surrounded by Riku, Sora and two other men who Sora called Donald and Goofy. They were carrying shovels and lanterns and seemed to be in a hurry.

“Roxas, how are you feeling?” Sora asked, crouching down to his eye-level and patting around his body.

“Fine,” Roxas wheezed. Alright, not so fine. Physically, he felt just as he had before he was executed, except for his throat, which was sore.

“Yeah, that will be bruised for a while, it took all your weight and such,” Sora commented, standing back up and offering his hand, “We have to go, though. People will be starting their mornings soon.”

“Wait,” Roxas looked around. “Xion?”

The entire group stiffened at that, and it wasn’t until Riku took Sora place and hauled Roxas up that they started moving again.

“We don’t have time,” he said. “We’ll explain at the camp, but we need to go.”

“No,” Roxas moved back, almost falling in his own grave again, “I gave her the seed and told her to bite down, like you said. I told her she’d be alright.”

“Roxas-“

“Where is she?!”

“Shh, Roxas,” Sora winced. Roxas kept his gaze on Riku, demanding him to explain right then and there. Riku’s shoulder sagged.

“I can’t feel her,” he said eventually.

“... What does that mean,” Roxas asked, even though he had a feeling. Something in him told him he was missing a big piece of himself.

“Even under the ground, I could tell you were there,” Riku explained. “But her, I...”

“Roxas, we’re so sorry,” Sora said softly, but it went unheard. Roxas was staring at the mound of dirt his sister must’ve been lying under.

“No..” he fell to his knees, “No, I promised her. I promised her we’d go somewhere safe. The two of us. She’s all alone down there..”

Sora stood behind him, grasping his shoulders in an attempt to give comfort. But how can you comfort someone who lost everything.

Roxas cried, his fingers grasping at the dirt.

* * *

XIII.

“You’ve been at the camp ever since, then?”

Roxas nodded. They were sitting at the embankment on the lake, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, hip to hip. Axel had his arm around Roxas, squeezing him against his side as the younger told his tale. Axel could hardly believe it. But his friend was there, with him, alive. And his sister was not.

“She’s alone, Axel,” Roxas said. “It never... truely mattered where we would go, after... as long as we went there together. But now...”

Axel felt a pang in his chest at the reminder that Xion was gone. He leaned his face against Roxas’ temple, trying to comfort his friend and himself.

“I just can’t believe I won’t ever get to see her again.”

“Hey hey,” Axel said, not much louder than a whisper, “We’ll see her again, some day. I know that for sure.” Gently, he took Roxas’ hand in his. “I miss her too.”

Roxas sniffed. “I missed you. Those days in jail. And the days at the camp. I’ve missed you.” Roxas turned his head so they were facing each other, forehead against forehead. They were impossibly close, they could feel each other’s breath on their skin. Roxas felt that warmth again.

“What do we do now,” Axel asked, his lips almost touching Roxas’ cheek.

“Come with me? To the islands Aqua promised.”

“Free from persecution and judgement. Sounds almost like a dream.”

“Well, wherever we go, I want you there with me, Axel.”

Axel leaned even closer, closing whatever distance was left between the two.

“Then so it shall be.”

**Author's Note:**

> SO I LEARNED THAT IT’S VERY HARD TO WRITE ANGST WITHOUT CRYING, IS THIS HOW IT WORKS FOR ALL THE WRITERS WHO WRITE THE SAD??
> 
> Okay so, I could’ve gone a loooooot of different roads with this story, if I wanted to. I could’ve made Axel a camper instead of a towner, that would’ve opened up more romantic possibilities. I thought of having Namine instead of Xion but I figured, nah, Xion would make more tears happen (TELL ME IM WRONG). In the first draft, Roxas and Xion’s parents weren’t dicks! I thought of doing an epilogue but I’ve been at it for seven hours and nah. Also part XI and XII were actually supposed to be between IV and X but I wanted to try out a M.Night Shamylan twist. Did it work? I also debated whether to do this in chapters, let the suspense linger and stuff, but then I thought ‘nah, i can one-shot this, how long could I possibly make this story’ *10,000 words later* ai.
> 
> I dunno, man, I’ve been chewing on this story for over a decade, i was bored and I’m glad I finally got it out there and I’m excited to see what you thought, so absolutely feel free to yell at me in the comments!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading ‘till the end~


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